


Envision

by ReceiverofWisdom



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Tumblr Prompt, done way late at night sorry for mistakes, tyzula - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReceiverofWisdom/pseuds/ReceiverofWisdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from anonymous. Post atla tyzula with Azula "bashfully" apologizing for throwing Ty Lee in prison. More or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envision

The state at which the being lies, Azula does not feel particularly privy to witnessing, as if it is somehow too distastefully intimate, despite the amount of times that she peered in and attended to her regardless, day after untraceable day.  
  
She had only ever known Ty Lee to slip below the line of her personified jubilance in the most fitful corners of the night, some time period long beforehand, when Azula would busy her hands in testing patience with her younger friend’s playful antics rather than scanning an outlined map beyond of the contents of a war room of wherein her presence had not yet been viewed as desirable.  
  
It is as intimate as the nights in a shared bed, when her more or less motherly parental figure saw it desirable that the Princess invite the other female over to stay the night, and they spend such a night in banter back and forth over their idealisms of a perfect world and what lie within it.  
  
Azula would say that in Ty Lee’s, she would only remain half-alive, unfulfilled, undulating and pouring her boredom from every fissure in her mind’s eye. Ty Lee would say that the wild glory and smoldering expectations that the other brings to light would leave her crushed and unable to breathe.  
  
Despite the fact that the atmosphere of Kyoshi Island much further relayed to that of Ty Lee’s aspirations, it was she that still remained unable to breathe freely under circumstance.  
  
Each inhale was a struggle that pressed upon the confines of the Princess’ conscience, weighing her down to the brunette’s bedside even when the darkened room, increasingly similar to the prison that once housed her fraudulent, incoherent state of mind from the recesses of a society that still silently, reverently praised her successes and her downfall within one chaotic junction.  
  
She desperately sought the scenery beyond such a desolate, downcast room, where her darkest moments became a sickness beyond that of the physical realm that Ty Lee defied and blithered in the midst of.  
  
Ty Lee had long since established a clammy hand over top of her given overseer’s that remained still shackled, an incessant reminder of her downcast political position.  
  
She had long since declined removing her hand, regardless of how uncomfortable the other’s temperature had become to her.  
  
The acrobat mumbled traces of an incomprehensive conversation. Supposedly, one they had been previously engaged in, for she cracked a weary eye, regarded the Princess, and went about mouthing murmured words to her in such a dim manner that Azula could not credit herself to any successful form of lip reading.  
  
It was the most communication she had gotten from her in the last couple of days, and therefore the scowl she shifted all too comfortably into receded into some form of, daresay, _forgiveness_.  
  
Ty Lee, for all the strength she could manage, shifted the firebender’s hand closer to her lips, becoming quieted from her verbal disturbances upon doing so. Lingering, pressing her lips to the back of the hand, she became contented and less labored in her breath, inhaling with deep soothes.  
  
As though weakened by no bout of flame, no diminutive spark from her own palm in years, Ty Lee burned against her hand, wrought in a fever Azula would have gladly outmatched in temperature for the sake of sparring preservation to the female who, out of so many, certainly did not deserve to be condemned into such a state.  
  
Perhaps it was karma, jarring in returning its favour to the one who had condemned her into her long sentence of madness.  
  
As she recalled, the acrobat had not apologized for her actions at all.  
  
For the conditions of the asylum that stood as her stronghold of a prison, yes, but never for the actions committed on that particular day, nearly four years previous.  
  
 _Justified_ , she had called it.  
  
In her irate state, she too would have defined her purposes for placing Ty Lee into a hold as justifiable. Betrayal had never been taken lightly.  
  
She could have had the two hanged. _She_ could have been hanged.  
  
But she had not yet apologized for her own actions, either.  
  
Beyond the fray of what used to be Ty Lee and what currently was Ty Lee,  Azula waded herself into a very gradual complacency over the ordeal. Crawling from the depths of a morbid unreality, she was pleased to find a ray of light, perhaps not as grand and beaming as before, but still _there_. Still consistent, still thriving and – no longer charging – but meandering ahead.  
  
It was enough, it was something.  
  
Something she confessed to be unable to grant enough credit towards.  
  
Pulling dark overgrown bangs behind an ear, Azula leaned, ghosting lips along the disarray of loose brown hair before lingering at the shell of the other woman’s ear.  
  
Finding the advantage in the other’s lack of coherence, the Princess dipped forward briefly, applying the weight of her lips to the ear and leaning slightly away afterwards, before sparing words that, with the pressure of a particular conscience that had built up over the span of months, she found little struggle with in speaking lightly.  
  
“I’m sorry.”


End file.
